


Playing

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dominance, M/M, Puppy Play, Size Kink, Submission, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 00:56:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For not letting his boyfriend sleep, Pavel’s either punished or rewarded in the form of becoming a puppy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Soistoppedhimlaughing and a few others have asked for more Khan/Chekov, so here we are. ♥
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Stumbling back from the washroom, Pavel nearly trips over his own sweater while rubbing at his eyes. He yawns once, still waking up, but the energy’s coming to him. By the time he’s reached the bed, he’s pushed his curls into place, and he climbs up on all fours with a fond smile. 

His sleeping boyfriend is curled up in the blankets, on his side, facing the other way. Dark hair has tumbled into the pillows, broad shoulders half-covered, long fingers coiled up and tucked beside a handsome face. John Harrison is nothing if not handsome. 

And ingenious. And powerful. And just generally perfect: everything Pavel could’ve dreamed of and more. And for some reason, he chooses to spend his free time in Pavel’s apartment, staying over whenever Pavel’s on Earth. It’s ‘just less tricky’ than John’s apartment, John says, whatever that means. Pavel doesn’t question it too much. He knows John’s high up in Starfleet: top security. Yet, he looks so vulnerable like this, eyes closed and breathing steady. 

“Rise and shine, babe,” Pavel sings, and he bends down to peck John’s cheek. He knows John’s probably awake and just in denial; John would wake up at the drop of a pin halfway across the room. Today, John simply ignores him. 

So Pavel pouts and leans down, nuzzling into the back of John’s head. They’re both down to underwear: traditional sleep-together gear. Pavel mouths along John’s bare shoulder in the hopes that it’ll entice John into waking, but no such luck. 

So he nudges at John’s neck and jaw and cheek with his nose, figuring a good head-butt can do the job. Pavel never has long on these Earth visits, and he doesn’t want to waste a moment. He knows that John will just ignore his voice. He makes a whining sound anyway as he pushes at John’s back with a lightly-curled fist, pawing at Jim’s shoulder. 

Breathing out heavily, something akin to a yawn, John sleepily glances over his shoulder. His eyes are a bright silver in the morning light filtered in through the curtains of the bedside window. He grins as he purrs, “What are you, a puppy?” Even just waking up, his voice is deep and sultry—it always puts Pavel on the verge of shivering in delight. 

If Pavel had a tail, he’d wag it. He grins coyly and coos, “Vould you like zhat?” Because then he would happily be one. 

He isn’t quite expecting John’s curiously lifted eyebrow. It’s a subtle show of interest. 

John rolls abruptly over onto his back, forcing Pavel to shuffle aside. The top of John’s chest is visible over the blankets, smooth and strong. Pavel keeps his hand coiled like a paw while he strokes John’s collarbone. John’s voice is pure sex when he decides, “I would like that very much.”

Grinning brightly, Pavel makes a pathetic attempt at a dog bark. He blushes a little, but the amusement on John’s face masks his failure. He does it again and begs with a needy sigh, “Vill you take me for a valk, master? Your puppy ees getting restless.” He bites his lip and sits back hopefully. His hands are now on his knees. John’s arms stretch lazily behind his head, and he eyes Pavel up and down. Pavel puffs out his chest, always hoping for a good review. 

“If you’re a puppy...” John drawls, reaching out with one hand to lightly stroke Pavel’s thigh, right beneath Pavel’s white briefs. “Why are you wearing clothing?” 

Pavel’s still chewing his bottom lip. John just makes everything so innately _sexy_. They haven’t done this sort of thing before, but of course, when it’s introduced in John’s seductive tones, how could Pavel ever be anything but excited? He lifts up on his knees and pushes his briefs down his hips, his cock already a bit hard in the lukewarm air. He has to shuffle around to get his underwear off, and he tosses it towards his laundry chute. When he turns back, John’s eyeing him again, this time paying extra attention to his cock. 

Pavel’s cock is nothing compared to the monster that John has, and he can’t help but glance at where it must be, hidden beneath the blanket. He can practically hear John’s smirk at his gaze, but he can’t help it. John has the dick of a Klingon, and he certainly knows how to use it. Normally, Pavel would beg John for a taste, peel the blankets away and impale himself, either his mouth or his ass, right onto it—when he’s back like this, he doesn’t want to go a single morning without riding John’s cock. But puppies probably wouldn’t do that, and John’s in control. He always is. Pavel looks at him imploringly, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be fucked by his wonderful boyfriend. 

Instead, John reaches out to grab a chunk of Pavel’s hair. Pavel gasps in pain, but that dissipates quickly. John pushes his head down, and Pavel obediently goes where he’s lead, until he’s on all fours again. Then John guides him across the bed, and Pavel has to climb over John’s body. He’s pushed down to the floor—Pavel nearly stumbles onto the hardwood, but he makes it. 

There, John pets his head affectionately, murmuring, “Good boy. We can’t have animals on the furniture, now can we?” It’s clearly rhetorical.

Pavel leans into John’s hand, mewling happily. The floor’s a little cold against his knees and toes and palms, but he’ll do as he’s told. Sometimes John tells him that he was built to be an ensign: always eager to serve. Pavel thinks it’s a compliment. 

Pavel waits a few more minutes, in which John slowly slips up, the blankets sliding down. Pavel gets a particularly stunning view while John stretches, back arching and arms shifting out, clearly just for show. Still, the way it makes his muscles flex and glint in the early light is nothing short of breathtaking. Pavel’s practically salivating by the time John climbs out of bed, strolling right past him. Pavel follows his barefoot master on hands and knees, wandering into the kitchenette. He sits at John’s feet while John pulls a bowl from the cabinets and fills it up with water—or at least, that’s what Pavel thinks is gong on. He can’t see over the counter like this, but he can hear the water. Pavel sits on his legs because the floor’s cold, and the kitchenette island casts a dull shadow over where he is. Pavel stares at John’s strong legs and ass while he waits for John to do... whatever it is John’s doing. 

John places the white bowl filled with water down on the ground, and Pavel blinks at it. It takes him a second to realize what it’s for. He looks up at John to check, and John, bending down to scratch behind Pavel’s ear, purrs, “Aren’t you thirsty, Pavel?”

Not really, but if that’s what John wants, than Pavel’s happy to oblige. ...It’s a little strange to eat off the floor, though. He supposes he shouldn’t use his hands. He’s blushing prematurely, but he still shifts into position in front of the bowl, his forearms on the ground around it. He spares one last glance at John before leaning in, hesitantly sticking out his tongue. 

It’s simple, lukewarm tap water, but Pavel licks at it slowly, trying not to get his nose in it. It’s hard to drink without just sticking his face in. His ass is stuck up in the air while he tries: an all around embarrassing position. 

He barely notices when John’s feet move until two hands are on his ass, kneading his cheeks. Pavel’s gasp is muffled by the water. He tries to look backwards, but one of those hands shoves his head back into place, and Pavel subserviently goes back to drinking his water. A few of John’s fingers are wet, and they run down between his crack, slicking it up with whatever liquid John’s using. Pavel moans as soon as one blunt fingertip finds his hole, and the sound is half from sheer anticipation alone. Pavel laps at the water with renewed vigor, irrationally hoping his energy will transfer to John and he’ll get fucked faster.

John simply chuckles. He’s clearly enjoying the show. Pavel wiggles his hips hopefully, and John slaps his ass lightly—he almost chokes in surprise. “Impatient little thing, aren’t you?” Pavel can’t answer—John’s shoved him down again. 

He answers by way of pressing his ass back into John’s fingers. John chuckles again, finger circling around and tapping at Pavel’s hole. Pavel can feel it twitching, and he tries to open up. John’s rubbing at the puckered ring. As soon as one fingertip pops inside, Pavel makes a keening noise and drops his head, getting water in his nose and the tip of his curls hanging down. 

He pulls his head out immediately and shakes it, spluttering, while John’s finger presses deeper and deeper. It doesn’t hurt—John’s always very careful—and it doesn’t even feel strange anymore—Pavel craves John inside him enough for it to just feel _right_. He wipes his face off on his forearms and returns to lapping up water while he’s fingered. The single digit pistons in and out, getting Pavel’s channel wet and stretching it lightly. When a second finger presses in, Pavel’s moaning for it. He’s almost finished the water. He can’t take the slowness of it without desperately wanting more, and he shoves his face in to suck up what’s left at the bottom of the bowl. Maybe once he’s done, John will fuck him. 

He makes his odd barking noise again when he’s done, nudging the bowl back with his nose. John pulls his fingers out of Pavel’s ass and pats it. 

Then he stands up, wandering over to the Synthesizer, loaded on blueberries. John picks Pavel’s empty bowl off the floor while he waits for the fruit cells to materialize. When they’re done, he takes the new bowl and leans down to offer Pavel one. Pavel opens his mouth happily, and John places a single berry on his tongue. Pavel eats it while John takes his own share, wandering aimlessly into the living room. Pavel, of course, crawls after him. 

John takes a seat on the white couch, pulling a spare PADD off the glass coffee table. He scrolls through it in one hand and plucks berries out of his lap with the other, probably reading the news. Pavel barks again, but John ignores him. 

Pavel waits a few minutes before frowning. When John finishes the blueberries, he places the empty bowl on the table and continues to read, looking quite immersed in whatever information he’s injecting. 

Pavel feels quite forgotten, and he tries quietly asking, “Master—”

“Puppies don’t talk,” John says so curtly and finitely that Pavel instantly closes his mouth. John doesn’t even look over to say it. Pavel whimpers, but again, he’s ignored. 

A few more minutes pass, and Pavel really can’t take it anymore. He’s half hard from the attentions and just looking at John’s gorgeous body lounging along the couch, and he’d be harder if not for this sad treatment. He crawls forward and brushes his side along John’s legs, turning around after to nuzzle his head into them and whine. He tries batting at John’s feet, then even kissing them, and then he sits up on his knees and sniffs and licks at John’s thighs, straining to get to John’s crotch. He buries his face in it and mouths at John’s boxers, getting them moist and tracing the outline of John’s cock through them. Even mostly limp, it’s still a very large, solid thing. Pavel rubs his cheek against it. He tries to stick his tongue beneath the fabric of one leg, trying to get the material aside and reach John’s cock or balls. He can tell he’s only a few centimeters short from making it. 

John grabs his curls suddenly, jerking them back hard enough for Pavel to gasp, neck curving. “You want a walk that badly, brat?” John’s voice is low and dangerous—that scary, commanding tone of his. Pavel doesn’t dare to talk, but his eyes attempt to convey an apology. He’s tossed aside a second later, and Pavel just manages to catch himself in time from hitting the floor. John stands up over him, towering above. “I should have a collar made for you,” John drawls thoughtfully, the terrifying edge still there but calmed by self-amusement. “Clearly you need a reminder of who you belong to, and it would certainly be easier to take you around.”

Lunging down, John gets a tight grip in Pavel’s hair again and drags him by it, out across the floor, Pavel yelping and frantically trying to keep up. It hurts less that way. Of course he’d wear a collar for John. He’d wear a leash, too. It takes him a dizzy second to realize where they’re headed—John’s dragging him towards the door of the apartment. Pavel stops suddenly, and that makes his hair pull. He grits his teeth. 

John only pulls him harder, growling, “I thought you wanted a walk? Don’t you want everyone to know exactly what you are, see you on your knees? You _begged_ me for this.” Pavel’s whimpering in both pain from the tug to his head and the words. Slipping into something sexier, John coos, “Besides, a pretty little thing like you—who could blame me for wanting to show my new puppy off? Perhaps after I buy you a leash, I’ll tie you up to a tree and watch you do all your little tricks—roll over, fetch, beg some more. Wouldn’t that be fun, pet? Put on display in the middle of the street, completely naked like this, down on your hands and knees to better serve your master?” _Fuck_. Pavel doesn’t want any of that, but when John says it in his gorgeous, honey-slicked voice, Pavel can’t help but shiver in delight... he really is desperate...

He’s too weak. He’s inevitably pulled across the floor, but as soon as they’re near the door, he surges towards it, bashing his shoulder into it in the hopes of keeping it shut. John’s fingers splay on his upper back, right between his shoulder blades, shoving him into the hard surface. Pavel winces on impact, and he turns his face just in time to prevent it from getting smashed. His cheek’s pressed into it, his chest flattened, his hands out against the faux-wood. He’s on his knees. John’s behind him, looming over him, right up close. He can feel John’s bare thighs against the back of his legs, John’s crotch grinding into his ass. John’s hands slip over Pavel’s shoulders, trailing down to hold Pavel’s hands hard against the door. John’s fingers are longer, stronger, more calloused—Pavel feels so tiny in his grip. John’s hot breath ghosts over the back of his ear, nipping at the shell. 

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t like it, Pavel. You know what you become for me. You’d do anything I asked. If I wanted to parade you right down that hall, through the elevator, outside, just like this, you’d let me. You’d let me do anything I wanted to your lovely body...” It’s true, so true. John’s tongue lightly trails down the back of Pavel’s neck with the promise of a kiss that he desperately wants. The thoughts of exposing what he really is is terrifying, but John’s voice is so erotic, John’s powerful body so enticing. Pavel presses his ass back into his boyfriend’s crotch. He wants this, needs this. 

He wants to beg for it, but puppy’s don’t beg. Not in words, anyway. One of John’s hands slips back down Pavel’s body, pausing at Pavel’s hip, and Pavel rocks himself backwards to encourage it to go lower. He can practically feel John’s smirk pressed into his neck. John’s fingers find his ass again, one running straight down to his already half-prepared hole. If it were anyone else, it’d be enough. Pavel still doesn’t care. He knows John’s big, and he knows he’d never make it if John tried to fuck him raw, but he can’t help it. He whimpers and humps John’s hand eagerly, earning a chuckle and a light slap to his ass. “What did I tell you? You’re nothing more than a filthy dog, Pavel Chekov. No wonder you made it onto a starship so young—one look at this ass, and I’d want you in my ranks, too.”

Pavel just groans. He’d never do anything like that. Just for John. John’s pushing a second finger into him, scissoring him wider, still wet from earlier. John reaches around him to hold his stomach, fingers just above his aching cock. It’s not touching the door; he’s curved out too much. His nipples are touching the door. They’re getting hard and rubbing raw; Pavel’s lightly humping it. John gets in a third finger and demands, “I’d ask you what you do with that pretty mouth of yours for your captain, who on your crew you let try your ass, but...” Fingers creep like spiders across Pavel’s throat, squeezing lightly. “...You’re not allowed to talk.”

Pavel will never say a word again if this is the way John wants him. But if he could, he’d insist, adamantly and over and over, that John’s the only person he’d ever let touch him. John’s the only person he wants to touch. After all, after a man like John Harrison, everything else would be a downgrade. No one could compare, could even come close. Pavel’s melting in his master’s fingertips, keening when they pull away. 

His hole feels open and empty without them, but he waits with bated breath for what he knows is coming. He isn’t disappointed. 

John’s cock pushes into him suddenly and without warning, popping inside just like coming home. Pavel takes it and throws his head back, voice cracking with a nearly inhuman noise of pleasure and pain. Even just the head of John’s cock feels impossible wide, bigger than he can take. It pulls out a fraction and shoves back in, pistoning in and out and deeper each time, and Pavel claws at the door and wishes he had _John_ to hold. It’s hard enough to stay up as it is. John pushes in with his steady, even pace. Pavel takes it, trembling. 

Pavel thinks he’s going to burst. He’s getting lightheaded, and it’s hardly even started. John gets all the way in with a final shove, balls deep and filling Pavel up beyond belief. 

“Good puppy,” John croons next to him. “Always so tight for your master...” Sometimes Pavel wonders if he really is tight. He’s young, yes, but maybe it’s just that John’s _huge_. John asks in a casual, carefree sort of tone, “Would you like me to fuck you, baby?”

 _Yes_. Pavel wants to scream it at the top of his lungs, but instead he just nods his head weakly against the door. All of that public humiliation talk turned him on way more than it should’ve. His cock’s swinging free and hard between his legs, but he knows John won’t touch it unless Pavel earns it. Pavel squeezes his ass hopefully, as much as he can manage. 

John makes a grunt of approval and begins to slide out, slamming in a second later. Pavel lets out a shrill cry—his stomach hits the door, cock slapping the faux-wood, but the jolt of pain only adds to his excitement. John has a way of overwhelming his senses until he’s nearly short-circuiting. John gets a firm grip on his hips and holds him in place while that incredible shaft slips halfway out of him, then in again. It doesn’t take long for John to work into a steady, harsh rhythm of forceful thrusts, pounding him into the door over and over again. Pavel screams so loud each time that his eardrums block it out, already drowned in the sound of his fluttering breath and racing pulse. He wonders if they can hear him on the other side of the door. It doesn’t matter. Pavel couldn’t be any less vocal if he wanted to, although there’s always a chance John will fuck him hoarse—that’s been known to happen. 

John fucks him into oblivion. Pavel wants to writhe, wants to flex his ass around the mammoth cock and hump it, but all he can do is let himself be tossed about, speared and then released, over and over. He can feel John’s body all around him, warm and great. John starts to kiss the side of Pavel’s face, trailing hard, thick kisses up along Pavel’s neck, biting at Pavel’s cheek. John’s always so fierce, so feral, better than anything Pavel’s ever had. Pavel turns his head, wanting to kiss back but unable to get far enough. John kisses the side of his lips and bites the bottom one, tugging it gently before trailing down to his jaw line. Pavel tilts his head to give more room, wanton and desperate. John hits the right angle every time. Pavel can feel his body begin to sweat, his curls to slick down along the back of his neck. Is this going to be one of those times where he has trouble walking for the rest of the day? His knees are sore, but he doesn’t care. His cock’s completely hard, even getting battered like it is. 

His ass is getting battered. It might even bruise. John’s now biting his shoulder, one hand moving to steady his chest, large enough to reach across and touch both nipples at once. They’re rolled around while John’s hips somehow manage to pick up the pace even more, slamming even harder, brutal and unforgiving and sheer paradise. Pavel’s still screaming. He knows he isn’t supposed to talk, but a few times he cries in ecstasy, “ _Da, da, da_!” other times, “ _John!_ ” It’s so, _so_ good...

“My pretty puppy,” John chuckles, dark and perfect, nuzzling into the side of Pavel’s red cheek. Oh, that _voice_. It does so much to Pavel’s cock, makes it beg for release. Pavel bites his lip and tries to push back, tries to impale himself even more, but he still feels powerless, like that, like everything, is solely up to John. John smiles at his efforts, pecking his forehead. “So eager for my cock...”

Pavel doesn’t even have the strength to nod. His thighs are trembling. He’s getting close, and he still hasn’t been touched. He doesn’t dare touch himself—he wasn’t given permission. He could come like this, just like this. Just listening to John’s deep, melodious tones, drifting foggily over his skin.... John purrs right in his ear, “You’re going to come for me, Pavel, aren’t you? Right when I tell you to, on command, like a good boy...?”

Pavel nods. Yes, yes, anything John wants. He’s shuddering. Every time that massive cock slides into him, he wants to clamp down and hold it forever, but then it slips out and he’s empty, so empty, and then it’s back in and pulsing inside him, glorious and wonderful. It sets off a thrill of pleasure every time that thrums up his body, his toes curling and his mouth opening wide, gasping at air. Pavel’s getting close, so close. How has he even lasted this long? A great big cock like that inside him, fucking him so hard, he’s so lucky...

Pavel waits with bated breath. John’s meandering around, lazily nipping at Pavel’s skin and sighing contentedly, rubbing Pavel’s nipples and stroking his chest. But John’s hips are still wild. Pavel’s going to go insane. John finally decides, almost as an afterthought, a languid, “Come.”

Pavel _shrieks_. His balls tighten, his vision blurs. He turns his head and presses his forehead against the door, screaming a hole in his lungs as his orgasm ripples through it, his cum splashing out and splattering the cold surface. He can hear John’s voice in his head, but he’s too busy reeling to understand what it’s saying, and he humps the air with a feverish rush. He’s coating his own door. The stench of sex is everywhere, the slapping sounds clouding up the air. John’s still fucking him. 

And then John’s coming, too, biting down into Pavel’s shoulder hard enough to break the skin, growling and grinding it out. Pavel’s all out of screams—he gasps. John’s hips roll into him over and over, and John’s hot cum pours out all over his walls, squelching around John’s giant cock and plugging Pavel up. John always comes so much that Pavel half expects it to start drizzling out the sides of his mouth. He whimpers while he takes it, trying weakly to hump John back and help. 

It takes a few hazy minutes to finish, and then John’s hips are slowing. He’s breathing heavily. He pulls his mouth out of Pavel’s shoulder, kissing the indents he left. He kisses Pavel’s cheek, still buried to the hilt, and pants, “Good dog.”

Pavel grins. He wants to slip down to the floor, but he can’t while he’s still full and John’s holding him up. John pulls out belatedly, taking a trail of mystery lube and cum with him. Pavel grunts at the sudden emptiness that surrounds him, air not nearly sufficient enough to fill the gap. At least he can slump down. He’s leaning against the door, but as soon as he can, he shuffles around, legs shifting to either side of John’s body, leaning in against John instead.

John scoops him up. John lightly pets his hair, hugging him close and purring into his ear, “However, I think I’d rather have a boyfriend than a dog.”

Pavel laughs. He’s still dizzy. He’s sitting at an odd angle to irritate his abused ass as little as possible. He pulls back enough to look at John’s face when he asks coyly, “Does zhat mean I may speak now?” John lifts a hand up to cup his chin, lightly thumbing his cheek. Pavel leans into the touch. 

John decides, “Hm, in just one moment—” And he ducks forward to press his lips into Pavel’s, cutting Pavel off. 

Pavel’s carried back to bed, and this time, Pavel lets John sleep, with himself curled up against John’s back and just as blissfully tired.


End file.
